Laughing As He Did It
by amanda.j.pickel
Summary: (Nolanverse/TDK flavored) Celeste Becks has scars; Both inside and out. She has lived through things that would make anyone insane, and yet; is more or less okay. It's this resilience to the harshness of life that fascinates The Joker. He can't predict her actions or reactions, and delights in exploring them. But what happens when he gets a reaction he never expected?
1. Note From Author

Hello everyone! I regret to inform all of you that unfortunately, I've scrapped this project O_O

This was my minor contribution to the "TDK JOKER FANDOM" when I was 18- and I just couldn't keep it alive for very long!

Hopefully I will find it within myself to return to it at a later date- However to avoid false hope, it'd be best to just assume that what's posted is all there'll be.

So sorry- Thank you for your support!


	2. Laughing as he did it

I wrapped my worn-out afghan tightly around my slight shoulders to keep out the biting chill of the Gotham Autumn as I gazed out over the lights of the city. I listened to the sounds of life echoing around me, which at this late hour I found to be very comforting. I'd always found something warming in the fact that no matter what time it was, or how dark it had become, that I was always close to someone else going about their business. Though given the late hour, I shuddered to think what 'Business' most people were going about- But it kept my mind happy to wonder and fantasize none the less. Even the hectic sounds that screeched up from the streets soothed me; the shattering sounds of minor car crashes, angry shouting, intermittent sobbing or drunken hoots, the occasional gunshot…. It all reaffirmed that I was not alone. A harsh wind gusted up from the street and I admitted defeat at the hands of Gotham's climate and scrambled from the wrought-iron fire escape back into my small apartment.

I'd lived alone since I'd become emancipated that the age of 15; a topic I was unwilling to discuss beyond a simple confirmation to nosey co-workers. I was now 19 years old, and honestly didn't mind the solitude, as I didn't care for most people. My job, on the other hand, would seem to contrast that. I was a waitress at a burlesque lounge just a few blocks east of my apartment building- and frequently had to put on a happy-face to deal with drunken blue-collar patrons. My rent depended on it. Of course, I had plans to go back to college, but my savings fund for that was meager at best. I'd be damned if I took out a college loan- more so than usual, as most of the loan companies were owned by various mobsters in Gotham. Once, when I was around seventeen years old, I'd considered hooking to get by- But thanks to the 'Wayne Community Betterment Foundation' I'd been able to receive monthly stipends so long as I was actively working or looking for a job and had no arrests. If you asked me, I'd be very quick to tell you that it was Bruce Wayne, and not Batman who did more good in Gotham.

I glanced at the little red numbers on the coffee maker and cursed myself. It was almost Two A.M. and if I didn't get a move-on I'd be late for work. I tossed the Afghan on the thread-bare couch on my way to the tiny bathroom and gathered my thick Copper hair into a messy Bun angrily.

"Ya know, If I could just get some sort of a sleep schedule hammered out I'd be in good shape." I mumbled to myself as I applied the required amount of mascara and shimmery purple eyeshadow. I didn't really like wearing makeup, but it got me more tips so I caked it on shamelessly. Next, I inserted my blue cosmetic contacts, something I'd discovered a long time ago was a 'Must' when going out among the masses.

I had been born with two different colored eyes; one a vivid Mossy green with a corona of gold from the pupil, and the other a warm amber color with so many flecks of orange that in most lights it looked like it was burning.

I'd never thought my eyes were odd, or freaky, but it didn't take me long to figure out that everyone else did.

I also made sure to keep as much of my skin covered as I could, I'd learned that lesson when I'd gone to the first day of 2nd grade in a summer dress and all the children had forced me into a corner and took turns kicking me. But at the time, I had found solace in the fact that children were cruel idiots. Later in life, I'd made the mistake of going out on a hot summer day in a t-shirt, and a couple people on the street became sick at the sight of my marred flesh. But I guessed it couldn't be helped.

I chuckled quietly to myself as I imagined what the lounge patron's reactions would be if I wore a tank-top instead of the tight purple turtlenecks and faded gray skinny jeans I armored myself with every day.

Pulling myself out of my musings and back to reality; I gave my reflection in the mirror a once-over. I had succeeded again, I looked normal. Letting out a bored sigh, I exited my apartment, grabbing my black apron and small green purse on my way out. The door to my apartment was thick steel, and auto-locked behind me as I strode down the narrow hallway to the stairs. Since the increase in crime, a few foundations and organizations funded by none other than Bruce Wayne had popped up to ensure the safety of people living in low-income areas; Which, I supposed was a good thing. It would be even better if they'd sprung for elevators. There was no elevator in my building, just 12 flights of stairs. Lucky for me I was on the top floor and had to make this trek multiple times a day.

'Oh well,' I thought, 'at least it'll keep me in shape.'

I had reached the 4th floor landing when I noticed heavy, slow footsteps coming from a one flight down. Instinctively I clutched my purse and glued my gaze to the ground. I didn't carry anything to defend myself with because I had never needed to; when I tried to look normal it worked so well that hardly anyone gave me a second thought.

I listened mindfully as the steps drew nearer to me, ready to bolt if need be. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a looming figure; a tall, purple blur staggering up the steps. I slowed a bit, trying to quickly calculate a trajectory that would be both safe and casual. I was forced to stop dead as the purple mass leaned forward and crumpled against the far wall, effectively blocking the stairs. My eyes remained glued to the cement slab under my feet, but I could tell from the mere height and width of the purple blob that it had to be a man- a tall man whom I guessed was maybe a foot or two taller than my 5''0. Just as I registered his size and contemplated fleeing, the man let out a loud, manic laugh that was both jarringly sinister and infectious. To my own surprise I didn't jump, but rather clamped all my muscles in to place in reaction to the startling sound.

I had just relaxed myself enough to take a slow step backwards, if the man was high on something and might not notice, when he spoke.

"Hi _there_ ," He chirped out in a strangely fluid yet nasal tone. "Where _might_ you be _going_ at this, uh, _**hour**_?"

"To work." I said, my own voice raspy and raw from lack of use. I added a small smile and looked up at the space by his ear for a second to seem polite as I subtly maneuvered myself to his side in an attempt to scoot by him. This did not work however; as he simply leaned against the wall I was edging along. It seemed almost as if he were daring me to look up into his face, and though I was not looking I could feel his taunting grin as his eyes burned holes through me.

"Please excuse me, Sir." I said meekly with a small cough to signify my awkwardness.

"Too _polite_." He announced, seemingly to himself. "Too _frail_. Too _small_. Too _afraid_. Too… _ **BORING**_."

I jumped a bit when he screamed the last word in a very low, almost demonic voice and found myself staring up into two jet-black eyes; Two black holes that oozed malice and rage. Suddenly, without really thinking, I found myself pushing him back and away from me out of pure instinct as my own anger flared its head within me.

"If you _want_ me to be rude, strong, bold and interesting; I can sure as **hell** _accommodate_ you!" I spat out before I realized what I was doing.

Our eyes met for a moment and I soaked in his shock before I seized my chance and darted past him and down the stairs. I was at the exit to the stairwell in a flash, practically flying down the remaining four flights of stairs as his uproarious laughter chased me. Once outside, I took a moment to make sure he wasn't following me; You never knew what lengths the freaks of Gotham would go to.

Once I was at work, the stress from the stairwell encounter was replaced by the all too familiar stress of drunken men pawing at me and generally being obnoxious assholes. I often felt the urge to rip my shirt open and watch their faces shrivel in disgust, but of course, I never acted on it.

" _They have no idea_ ," I would think to myself, " _They have absolutely no fucking Idea how disgusting my body is_."

I would always shrug it off- They had no idea, and they didn't need one as far as I was concerned. I was just here to serve drinks and pretend to be a normal, pretty, happy girl in a city filled with hungry, depraved, corrupt, vile people. I was meant to be a distraction from that, even if it was a lie. If it payed enough, I didn't mind lying though. Which made me just as vile as everyone else, in a way.

"Quiet Girl, you've got a man in the corner. Be nice, if the freak pays he stays." Barked Dion, The lounge's owner.

I simply nodded and started heading through the darkened, velvet lined lounge in the direction he had indicated. It didn't matter to me that I'd worked here for two years and nobody knew my name. In fact, I sort of preferred it that way. I wasn't very surprised at his last words either; recently we'd gotten a bunch of customers who, to be frank, were criminals. Dion was affiliated with the Penguin to some capacity though, so there was a barrier of neutrality here that even the police didn't pass. Though, I was growing tired of all the clown-masked men storming in and wrecking the place for the hell of it. They were rude, and too unruly. Dion didn't even seem to mind when they got touchy with the dancers- So long as they compensated him well. Like _he_ was the one who had to tolerate their wandering hands. I pitied the dancers, I really did.

Once again, I found myself shrugging off issues that any _decent_ person would be incapable of ignoring. But then again, I wasn't 'Decent'. I arrived at the corner booth and pulled out my order pad. Looking up, I saw that whoever was seated there held a large copy of ' _The Gotham Times_ ' in front of his face. I stifled a snort when I saw ' _BATMAN- HERO OR VILLIAN?_ ' on the front page.

"Welcome to the burlesque lounge, Can I take your order?" I asked in the robotic way that every waitress eventually gains over time. My pen poised over the off-white paper, I looked down and waited for him to recite his order.

" _Uhhhm_ , Yes. I would, eh, _like_ …..a banana _split_. With _extra_ cherries."

I snapped my head up just as he tossed the paper over his shoulder. Suddenly epiphany hit me and I realized that this was both the man from the stairwell, and _The Joker_. It took me a moment to regain my senses after examining his vivid, smeared paint and the scars that nearly split his face in two; and then I promptly wrote his order down with a curt nod.

"Anything else?" I asked, meeting his eyes.

In the dark interior of the lounge, they truly looked jet-black and seemed to almost fade into the dark oil he had dramatically rimmed his eye sockets with. It gave the illusion that he had monstrously large, ebony black eyes. Like an alien. I suddenly brought my hand up to my mouth to stifle a giggle at the thought of alien thugs running around Gotham that this comparison conjured in my mind. I had even pictured laser-guns blasting from the hands of little green men and anal probes descending from the skies.

He seemed to notice my near-giggle and his brows rose slightly and he leaned back, putting his hands behind his head as he regarded me. I knew I should probably be terrified of ' _the clown prince of crime'_ but I had never been one to be afraid of anything unless it gave me, personally, significant reason to be. He looked a bit perplexed. Maybe he just wasn't used to people _not_ cowering in terror before him or trying to scurry away.

We stayed like that for a minute or so, just staring at each other, before I finally broke the silence.

"So, is that all you want? Banana split?" I asked, tucking my order pad back into my apron.

Suddenly he lurched up, and stood before me with his arms stretched menacingly over me, his tongue darting over his lips and scars. I tensed, but held my ground, curious as to what he would do. I was aware that when dealing with psychopath's curiosity wasn't the best policy, but honestly, I couldn't help it.

He let out a long, exasperated sigh and relaxed his body into a normal stance. Well, nearly normal; he was a bit hunched over and sort of bounced around as he continued to move his tongue around his cheek. Most of the lounge had emptied at this point, and the few people who remained had become deathly quiet, as if they were holding their breath.

"I can't, uh, _figure_ you _out_." He said, almost in defeat. "Are you _some_ sort of, uh, _retard_? Or _are_ you _just_ , uh, _plain_ stupid?"

I blinked up at him a few times before busting out into full-on laughter. He froze, jaw slack, and stared at me until I composed myself and whipped a tear or two away from my eyes.

"I'll go put in your order." I said, sobered. I turned to walk away but before I knew it I was in an iron-like grip and being thrown backwards. Large, Leather-gloves closed tightly around my throat and held me, pinned, against the wall. The joker leaned in, close enough for me to smell the faint fumes from his painted face and feel the heat of his breath. My feet were in the air, and I tried gain traction on the wall to wiggle myself free; but to no avail.

"Now, look, uh, _look_ ," he began, licking his lips and sucking his teeth in agitation. "I don't get the, uh, _impression_ that you. Are _Taking Me_ _Seriously_." He finished, dragging out his vowels and tilting his head.

I could tell that he expected me to say something in my defense, but his hands were too tight around my neck so I didn't even try. I just bore holes into his eyes and tried my best to look bored. I knew that it would only make things worse, but a cruel sort of adrenaline had overtaken me and my mind was in an odd place. Finally, as if realizing that I _couldn't_ speak, he loosened his grip slightly and allowed me to gasp in some much-needed air. I looked down as I gasped in air like a dying fish, and with a spike of defiance I returned my gaze to his and allowed a smile to spread across my face.

" _'Why so serious_?'" I quoted.

His eyes grew almost impossibly wide, and he began to laugh. The laugh grew in intensity and volume as he slowly let me slide down the wall and back onto my feet. He did not release me, however, so I simply stood there as he laughed. He had bent over slightly, and his eyes were shut as the laughter shook his body violently. I could feel my skin starting to tingle and my belly grew warm as I felt his laughter start to invade me, spread through my body, and creep up my own throat. I softly put my hand to my mouth to stop it from escaping and in doing so, my fingers brushed against his exposed wrist. A shock seemed to go through both of us as I realized how warm he was, and his skin puckered briefly under my cold fingertips. His coal-like eyes snapped open and he regarded me once more; all signs of humor gone from his face.

"I'll, uh, be _seeing_ you." He said, tucking my I.D. into a pocket in his green vest.

My eyes focused on it; he must have gotten it out of my purse at some point. He gave a small chuckle as he turned and pulled me with him by my neck and shoved me towards the kitchen. I noticed that he had pushed me relatively softly, and for some reason deemed this worthy of remembering as I rubbed my bruised neck with my left hand. I turned to look at him before heading towards the kitchen. He inclined his head slightly and gave me a crooked grin that revealed yellowing teeth.

When I returned with his Banana split, He was gone.

I spent the next couple weeks going through the motions of my routine with an odd sense of expectation. I was, almost, disappointed when he didn't bust through my door in the middle of the night or pop up behind me when I took the trash out. I didn't own a television, But I tried to my best to pay attention to the hushed whispers about ' _The Joker_ ' that constantly seemed to circulate in an attempt to track his activity. A bank would be robbed, a warehouse raided, cars stolen…the usual activity. Every move he made seemed to be preamble for some grand strike, like he was setting the board and preparing for a spectacular game that only he knew the rules to. After eighteen days of this, I found myself slumped over on my couch in a lethargic state. I had really thought that maybe, he had written me off. I knew that this shouldn't bother me and that if anything I should be happy about it, but I couldn't muster that within myself. The more I thought about it, I realized that the idea of someone wanting to see me had excited me, and the fact that it was The Joker had done nothing to deter that. I had even called into work a few times, just in case The Joker popped up outside my apartment while I would have been gone. Of course, I knew that he could probably send his thugs to kill me any time he wanted, and that outcome was just as likely as him showing up in person- But for some reason I couldn't identify; I didn't really expect that.

Finally, I was at my whit's end and so sick of waiting that I thought I would explode. I had already re-read every book I owned -a feat which was nothing to sneeze at- and re-organized everything in my small apartment. I was tired of wearing my contacts and 'going out' clothes constantly in case he showed up. Just when I stood and started towards the bathroom to take out my contacts, I head a soft knock at my door. I froze; ears keen. Had I heard that, or was it wishful thinking? If it was real, it was perfect damn timing. The knocking echoed out again, three soft taps on the door and my body launched into action. Without even looking through the peep-hole I ripped the door open with perhaps a bit too much gusto, and stood inside the threshold with a scowl and clenched fists.

It was _him_. My eyes took him in, in that general way where you see someone in their entirety without focusing too much on any one aspect. It didn't look like he'd reapplied his makeup recently, as it was smeared to the point of nearly not being there. I noticed the small patches of slightly tanned skin that flecked his face, and was tempted to lick my thumb and wipe the remaining smudges of white, black, and red away from his flesh.

He moved awkwardly past me, into the living room of the apartment and leaned casually against the back of the couch and in his wake the scents of gasoline and mildew swept across me. He watched me close the door with just as much energy as I had used opening it, then I turned to face him. Leaning my own body against the back of the door, I leveled a glare at him.

"I, uh, told _you_ ," he said, motioning with his hands softly "That I'd be, uh, _seeing_ you, _sweetheart_. Don't look _so_ , uh, _surprised_."

"Eighteen days ago, you said that." I said, crossing my arms. To my surprise, I was angry with him. Not for showing up, but for taking so long.

" _Huh,_ " I thought. " _Who'd have thought I'd chastise a raging psychopath for being_ ** _late_**."

He furrowed his brows and tilted his head at me, as if struggling to understand some abstract concept. His eyes glazed over slightly, and he seemed genuinely confused. I huffed softly and strode past him and into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. As far as I could tell, he hadn't brought any weapons with him and though he was volatile by reputation, didn't seem to be in a particularly homicidal mood to me. I realized that I was not only slightly disappointed by how long it had taken him to stay true to his words, but angry that his appearance at my apartment had been so… casual. I don't know what I'd expected, maybe explosions and gunfire. Which I knew was ridiculous of me, but was just yet another irrational thing about me that couldn't be helped. I stood and glared at the coffee maker as it spewed out the delicious black liquid that I craved, and listened to him move around my apartment. I heard a few things fall from bookshelves, intermittent giggles, and shuffling. So, had he just shown up at my apartment to make a mess and nosily rifle through my things? Though, to be honest, I had no idea why I wanted him to have shown up.

Once the coffee maker had finished its task, I quickly filled two mugs and added a splash of milk before carefully striding back into the living room and sitting them on the coffee table. I glanced around and saw that the joker had wandered into my bedroom, and leaned back on the couch to wait for him to satisfy his curiosity. Maybe he thought that at any moment a gaggle of cops would pop out, and as far as I was concerned he was welcome to make sure they wouldn't. I patiently waited and took a few sips of my coffee as I listened to him slowly shuffle back to the couch. He sat on the arm, and I bit my lip to stop myself from telling him not to do that because it would break the couch. I extended my free hand and gestured towards the untouched cup of coffee on the table as I took another sip from my own mug, and watched him over the rim. His eyebrows shot up and he leaned forward to claim it, in doing so, causing my ID to fall out of his vest pocket. It clattered to the scuffed wooden floor and we both looked at it for a moment as we drank our coffee in silence.

"About _thaaaat_ ," He said, licking a few drops of coffee from his lips and nodding his head at the fallen plastic card. "I _noticed_ that, uh, your _eyes….._ are two diff-ERRR-ent _colors_ on that- _tuh_. But they, uh, _look_ Bluuuue to _me_." He raised his head to stare at me with a small smile, his scars crinkling slightly.

I was suddenly rigid, inhaling slowly as my mind whirred. I _could_ just explain, or I could _show_ him, or I could just stay silent…

"Ohhh- _ho_ -ho- _hee_ -ha!" He exclaimed in a way that resembled mock-laughter as he bounced slightly. " _You've_ got, uh, _secrets_! I just loooove _secrets_. See, they're _like_ , uh, _funny_ little _games_. _Everyone_ puts sooo much _**effort**_ into hiiiiding the _truth_ , when, uh, it's something _boring_ or, uh, just _stupid_. "

I raised my eyes to meet his as he paused before continuing, watching his animated expressions with rapt attention. He had the kind of expressions that you could watch all day, and his way of speaking was unique and almost addictive. I could probably just watch him read the phone book aloud for hours on end.

"So, you spend _sooo_ much, uh, _**time**_ trying to figure out what, wh-aaaat the _secret_ isssss- _ **suh**_ , and _when_ you, uh, _do_ \- It's _not_ even _**worth**_ the **time** you've _spent_!" He threw his head back and that sinister, wheezing laugh rolled out of his mouth and echoed against the walls with ferocity. "But, uh, _then_ \- _because_ you, uh, _**know**_ , the _other_ person is just _terrified_ that, uh, you'll **scream** it from the, uh, _rooftops_."

I mulled his words over in my mind for a moment, watching him slowly regain his composure as he fell into tiny fits of giggles and patted his legs.

"It's even funnier when someone spends time and effort trying to figure out something that was never a secret to begin with. Then, when they expect to have power over you; they don't." I commented. "You'd tell anyone who asked."

His dark eyes seemed to glisten for a moment, before he took a sip of his coffee in tandem with me. I took a moment to glance up at him, and noted that his profile was moderately attractive. His features seemed good enough, under the makeup. I had a feeling that without the makeup, he'd be kind of handsome. I stored this little thought away and readjusted myself on the couch.

"I wear blue contact lenses most of the time, because having blue eyes is a bit more… inconspicuous." I stated plainly.

I wondered what he'd think if he ever found out the lengths I went to, to be just another faceless member of the masses. Once again, I felt the urge to rip my shirt off and show him just _why_ I strove for anonymity; because it was better than being targeted and called out as a disgusting freak. But then again, as a 'Disgusting freak', he himself demanded from everyone their undivided attention, so perhaps I would be considered even more so disgusting in his eyes- Maybe even weak and pathetic. I took a minute to try and estimate a bit more of what he would think of my motives, and concluded that he probably would be repelled by them. I'd just have to try my best not to let him see my scars.

"In- _con_ -sssspicuous. _Incon_ -spicu- _oussss_ …" He mumbled to himself. " _Never_ been a, uh, _fan_ of _**that**_."

"Sure you have." I found myself saying, and after a split-second of shock, I decided to roll with it. "How old are you? In your late twenties, early thirties? _'The Joker'_ has only been around for about a year or so, and you have to have been someone before that. Someone inconspicuous. By the look of those scars, you've had them for a while. At least five years judging by the way they've healed."

Suddenly there was a loud roar that shook the walls, and I was pinned to the floor with a sharp pain in my stomach. When my brain started working again after the surprise of what had just happened, I realized that the Joker's knee was digging into my stomach, and his eyes were spitting pure hate at me as he brandished a small knife in front of my startled face.

"We, Uh, will _not-TUH_ discuss _**that**_. Hmmm? _None_ of your, uh, _**BUSSNESS**_ now, is _it-TUH_?" he said, furiously licking his lips and running his tongue alone his scars. I noted that talking about who he was before the Joker was a sensitive subject as he narrowed his eyes. "I, uh, want to _propose_ a new _idea_ -how _abooout_ instead of, uh, _trying_ to talk about, uh, _**my**_ scars, we _talk_ about yours?"

The malice and intent behind his words hit me, and upon realizing that he intended to _give_ me scars to talk about- I let out a manic laugh of my own that seemed to take him totally by surprise. For a moment, his knife-wielding hand drooped and his eyebrows shot up. He didn't release the pressure on my stomach though; he simply stared at me as the rage grew in his eyes. As the resolve behind his intent visibly grew, so did my wild laughter. I grew insanely giddy as he plunged the knife into my sweater, pricking my collarbone slightly, and ripped it down; effectively tearing my shirt open. Any moment now, he would _understand_. He raised his hand high, as though her were about to plunge the knife deeply into my chest, and then he _saw_.

The knife fell to the ground and clattered loudly and I heard a loud gasp emit from his lips. His dark eyes were wide and unreadable as he remained perched atop me. His hands ripped the rest of my sweater away slowly, and then he froze as the extent of what he was looking at hit him. My laughter turned bitter as he let me sit up slightly and push him off my body. He sat next to me, in a stunned stupor as I rolled onto my stomach and pushed myself up. He saw them all- all the scars that marred my body in brutal patterns and covered just about everything from my wrists, to my neck, to where my jeans clung to my waist. They went beyond that, of course, but he had enough to take in; there was no need to rip my pants off for the sake of drama. I stood over him, my laughter fading as I watched his eyes dart from one scar to another, and then give up when he realized that they were all connected and indistinguishable individually.

I strode over to where my ID lay on the floor, picked it up, and then turned to face the Joker. He was still staring at my scars, his tongue jabbing the inside of his left cheek and darting across scars.

"Thanks for 'Seeing' me." I said with a small, sad smile before turning to walk to my bedroom. Once inside I locked the door, and crumpled against it. My mind was a jumble and my emotions were undefinable- But I knew he would be gone when I went back out. Probably for good.

I awoke some time later and found that I was still on the floor; crumpled by my bedroom door. I had fallen asleep as I softly sobbed, and the regret from such a pathetic act hit me like a ton of bricks. I slowly stood, stretching out my stiff and sore body, my hands absentmindedly finding their way to my bruised stomach and I stifled surprise sob. It was funny, really, the closest I had come to connecting in any way to someone; and he was a mass-murdering, psychotic criminal who painted himself as a clown. Not only that, But _I_ had pushed _him_ away; Irony at its finest. I unlocked my door and cracked it open tentatively, then poked my head out to get a better view of my living room. No joker. Letting out a small sigh of acceptance, I opened my door the rest of the way and strode towards the coffee table to clean up the mugs that had shattered in the previous scuffle.

" _Well_ , uh, _hello_ there, Sleeping _beauty_." The Joker's voice echoed from my kitchen.

I whirled to see him sitting atop my kitchen counter, holding a jar of grape jelly with dark purple smears on the index and middle finger of his free hand as he kicked his feet like a small child. He haphazardly placed the jar on the counter beside him and gingerly hopped down and started towards me with a wide grin, which revealed his now purple teeth. I was surprised that he was still here; I had to have been asleep for at least a couple hours. Perhaps he had gone and then come back.

Before reaching me, he stopped mid-stride and gave me a sheepish look as he licked the remainder of the jelly from his fingers greedily. He then proceeded forward in that odd, stiff-backed yet lackadaisical way that he seemed to have perfected. I wanted to ask why he was still there, but stopped myself as I realized that I didn't really care why; I only cared that for whatever reason, he _was_ still there. I just wanted to savor the feeling of having somebody stay with me, even if it was just for a fleeting moment, after seeing my mutilations. It was naïve and selfish of me to hope that maybe he didn't mind my scars, yet I relished the feeling none the less. No one, not even my own mother, could stand the sight of my scars. But I forced that out of my mind as I took a deep breath.

"Are you hungry?" I asked, looking up into the Joker's face and then to the jelly-jar pointedly. He shuffled awkwardly, and let out a small chuckle.

"I _suppose_ that I _could_ , uh, _eat_ something." He said, his dark eyes darting around the room as if he were feeling guilty. A low rumble echoed from his stomach as if on cue, and I giggled to myself as he put both of his hands over his abdomen as if appalled at himself.

"So Gotham's own ' _clown prince of crime_ ', an anarchy-driven terrorist, can't manage to feed himself?" I giggled up at him jokingly.

"Well, uh, _sometimes_ , you _see_ , I just _forget_. So, uh, _busy_. Ya' _know_." He said, casting his eyes down in a show of mock-shame as his hands fidgeted with his vest.

"Well, I think I can manage a grilled cheese or two." I said, starting to walk past him and into the kitchen.

"Oh!" He exclaimed, grabbing my elbow to stop me. "There's _no_ time for, uh, _that_. We've got _about_ ….umm… _ **ten**_ _minutes_ to get _out_ - _out_ - _ouuut_." He added, moving his hands in a small circle in front of himself to indicate urgency.

"Umm…'Scuse me?" I said, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, _well_ ," He said, his face squishing up like he'd been caught sneaking into the cookie jar. "I had, uh, _**plans**_ for this _building_. You _see_ , there's a _man_ called _**Maroni**_ , Big _bad_ mob boss _type_ he is, _and_ uh, his _sweet_ little ole' nanny, the one he had as a _tiny_ little _macaroni_ of a _**Maroni**_ , _she_ uh, _lives_ ** _here_**. So, a _while_ back- _uh,_ when you met _**me**_ on the _stairs_? You _remember_. Anyway, _uh_ , I was _rigging_ the place with, uh, _**bombs**_."

By the time he finished his long-winded explanation, he was in hysterics and I was scrambling to pack what few clothes I had in a bag. I had questions for him about this, but thought it best to save them for a time when we were outside of the soon-to-explode building. I managed to drag him; as he laughed wildly; down the stairs and into the ally. I stood there for maybe a full minute, unsure of what to do when a large black SUV pulled up and its doors flew open.

I didn't question the men in clown masks as they shouted at us to get in, I simply shoved the joker in and climbed atop him just as the car sped away. There was an awkward shuffle of positions between the joker and I as we tried to right ourselves in the back seat, and I let out a small grunt when he stepped on my arm accidentally. Just as the car had distanced itself from the building by what seemed to be no more than one or two blocks, there was an explosion so loud and fierce that the stoplight we were currently speeding under dropped into the street; stopping traffic behind us. I whipped my entire body around and clutched the headrest of the seat as I watched large plumes of flame, smoke, and debris float high into the sky.

The driver started hooting in excitement and the man in the passenger seat started clapping his hands and whistling.

"That was fan-fuckin-tastic, boss!" said the man in the passenger seat with a thick Bostonian accent.

"Thing o'beauty!" added the driver.

Suddenly the joker was climbing over the center console and into the front seat; and with one fluid motion he leaned over to open the driver's door and shot him twice in the head. The car swerved a bit as the joker swiftly kicked the previous driver out of the open door and assumed his position behind the wheel. Both the passenger and I were stunned, and watched him adjust the rear-view mirror in shocked silence. Once he was situated, he secured himself with his seat belt, and looked back at me to signal that I should do the same. I promptly complied.

" _What's_ your, uh, _name_?" Asked the joker as his eyes darted over to the man next to him.

"D-D-Davis." Stammered the man. "I-it's Davis, boss."

" _Okay_ , uh, _Davis_. Open your door- _rrrrr_." The joker commanded playfully, rolling his 'R's.

"B-boss?" questioned Davis, now visibly shaking.

" _ **O-PEN**_. _**YOUR**_. _**DOOR-UH**_." Roared the joker; his voice no longer sounding human.

A shiver went down my spine as the dreadful acceptance of what he planned to do sunk into me.

With shaking hands Davis did as he was told, and no sooner than that was shot and ejected from the vehicle just as the last man had been.

" _Terribly_ rude of them _and_ , Uh, _Insensitive_. The _lady_ just, uh, _lost_ her _home_!" He said before starting to cackle wildly to himself.

In some secret, illogical part of my mind I was strangely comforted that he cared at least _a little_ for my feelings. Which I acknowledged was slightly demented, but shrugged it away.

A few minutes of silence passed and I began to worry at my lack of, well, _worry_.

"Okay. So my entire apartment building is gone, totally gone; blown up. Everything I own is gone." I stated to the Joker. He simply nodded. "I've just seen two men shot and subsequently killed before being thrown out of the speeding vehicle that I'm still in. Countless people just died in the aforementioned explosion of my apartment building." By this point, I had closed my eyes and was focusing all my energy on trying to feel what I should be feeling. I was starting to suspect that I was in some form of shock, because I couldn't muster up any emotion at all.

"Uh, _Yes_?" the joker probed after a moment of silence, clearly expecting me to come to a point.

"Gimme a minute. Just need a minute here." I announced, rubbing the tips of my middle fingers on my temples as I clenched my eyelids as tight as I could.

"Mmmm. _Yeah_ , okay." I heard him say, his voice sounding robotic as if he were bracing himself for some sort of epic, sobbing breakdown from me.

A few more minutes passed as he drove crazily around corners, and down side-streets. I took this time to wait for some sort of feeling or thought that fit to fall into place.

Was there something _wrong_ with me? After everything I'd been through tonight, all I could think was; 'I should have grabbed my toothbrush'. After about ten minutes of staining myself to feel something, anything, I started to think that maybe I wasn't in shock. There had to be something _wrong_ with me. People had _DIED_ back there; _**A LOT**_ of people. Why wasn't I _upset_ about it? Why didn't I _**care**_?! I knew I should sob and shake and be mentally destroyed over what had just happened, but I just couldn't manage it. Goddamn, it was making me _upset_ that I _**wasn't**_ _upset_ about what had happened.

" _Fuck it._ " I thought to myself as I kicked the seat in front of me out of frustration.

" _Are_ you, uh, _okay_ back there, _doll_?" came the joker's voice, jerking me out of my head.

I met his gaze in the rear-view and for a moment he seemed shocked that I wasn't crying before his eyes darted back to the road.

"Actually, I am okay." I said casually. "Truth be told, I could actually go for some pizza about now. Which I must admit is sort of...Fucked up. But true none the less."

Suddenly the car skidded to a stop on the side of the road, and the joker bent over the steering wheel as a wild laughter overtook him. He was gasping, and wheezing, an pounding on the wheel; tears leaving trails of tanned skin as they cut through the white paint on his face. He wiped at them frantically and began to bounce in his seat. I observed him quietly and waited for him to settle himself. A few minutes later, he turned his body in his seat; using the passenger seat to hold himself in position as he stared at me with a crazed smile.

" _ **Wha**_ -" He began, pausing to stop himself from laughing. "What _**are**_ you? _Hmm_? After, _**all**_ , uh, _**that**_ -"

His words were cut off by another round of laughter and this time he seemed to give up on trying to finish what he was trying to say, instead he simply turned back around and pulled away from the curb as he chuckled to himself. His intermittent laughter and lip-smacking continued until we finally stopped at what seemed to be our destination. It was the 'Sionis Steel Mill' in the industrial district of Arkham city, a place that looked abandoned and foreboding.

He giddily popped himself out of the car; running his tongue over his scars as he did. I unlatched my seat belt and was jumped when his face appeared on the other side of the window. He open the door for me and I stifled a chuckle at the thought of the man who'd just blown up my building being concerned about his image as a gentleman. The Joker regarded me for a moment and then extended his arm to block me in before I could exit the car fully. My legs were dangling over the seat, and I could feel the goosebumps puckering my skin in response to the cold night air.

"Ya _know_ , sweet- _ **heart**_ , I'm _starting_ to _think_ that, _uh_ , you _may_ be _just_ as _**much**_ of a _monster_ as, uh, _**me**_ " He announced, his eyes piercing into mine as if looking for  
some sort of confirmation as his tongue played with the inside of his cheek. My eyes focused on his shoulder as I considered this, letting the idea wash over me.

"Ya _know_ , _**Puddin'**_ , you _may_ be _**right**_." I replied, mocking his voice jokingly as my eyes met his.

He leered down at me with some unreadable emotion swirling in his eyes and removed his arm so that I could exit the car. Once I had stepped out, he linked his arm through mine and began to lead me toward the entrance of the mill.

"So, uh, _Pizza_?" He chuckled. "I _think_ I can, Uh, _manage_ that."

I giggled softly to myself, thinking about how ridiculous this whole situation was. Here I was, walking into The Joker's _super-secret lair of evil_ , and all I could think about was what kind of topping I wanted on my pizza.

Once inside the steel mill, we walked down a long and narrow hallway until we came to a large area where all the equipment seemed to be. I looked around at everything for a moment, taking it all in. The steel mill was much larger than it had looked from the outside, and I felt dwarfed among the giant furnaces and other monstrous machines.

The joker made a loud grunt at me, and I snapped my attention back to him and followed him as he skirted the large room and meandered down another hall. At the end of the hall, we reached a spiral staircase. He then took my hand and began to drag me up it; as if he didn't trust me to follow him. Once at the top of the stairs, we started down another narrow hall and towards a room that had large glass panes for walls; but I couldn't see the interior because there were sheer purple and green curtains strung up to allow for privacy. This had to be where The Joker spent most of his time, I thought.

Once inside, a quick glance around confirmed my suspicions. I examined the room slowly and was slightly surprised by how _cozy_ it looked. True, paper littered the floor and there were old take-out containers everywhere and it smelled a bit musky; but it felt homey and warm regardless. It was a room in an abandoned mill that was inhabited by an insane terrorist, but despite this it was more inviting than my apartment had been.

There was a makeshift kitchen to my right, complete with a small refrigerator and gas range as well as a coffee maker that sat atop a large, plum colored dresser. I noted that there were three coffee mugs sitting atop the dresser, two of which had the handles broken off. I looked to my left and saw a large, comfortable-looking couch with violet and maroon upholstery, and a floor-lamp that had no shade. In the center of the room sat a large iron-framed bed with a charcoal grey blanket and an eclectic collection of pillows tossed over it. I noticed that there was a small wooden door in the far corner of the room, which was open just enough for me to spy a small sink, toilet, and shower.

The Joker shifted his weight awkwardly as he watched me examine the room, and extracted a cell phone from a pocket in his coat. He dialed a few numbers, and within seconds was telling someone to bring him two large pizzas with anchovies.

A loud growl emitted from my stomach at the thought of food, and I bit my lip as my mouth watered from the prospect of the anchovies. Had he known I liked them, or was it just a coincidence?

I leaned against the door frame and wondered what to do with myself. I wasn't very sure what etiquette applied when you were in an anarchist clown's home. I looked over at the joker as he removed his jacket and tossed it in the direction of the bed. It missed, and landed with a noticeable thud on the floor which caused me to wonder at what was in the pockets. He paced across the room and shut himself in the bathroom for a couple minutes before emerging and throwing himself down on the couch. He wiggled into a comfortable position, tossing a leg over one of the arms as he let out an exhausted sigh.

I walked deeper into the room as he watched me, and sat my bag neatly in the closest corner. I then sat on the floor next to it as I re-examined the contents. I could feel the Joker's eyes searing holes through me as I neatly re-folded and re-organized everything before packing it away again. Once I was done with that I simply sat, awkwardly fidgeting with the hem of my sweater as the intensity of his staring increased. Just as I was about to snap at him for his relentless staring, a large shadow appeared on the other side of the curtains and lumbered to the door before pausing to knock softly.

A burly man wearing a clown mask cautiously opened the door, and I scrambled forward as the scent of hot pizza hit me with the force of ten thousand trains. The joker cackled as the thug frightfully pushed the pizza boxes into my arms, and I turned on my heel to place them on the ragged coffee-table before tearing them open. I took a moment to soak in the magnificent sight of warm, fresh pizza before tearing out a large slice and hurriedly devouring it. I realized that I had been much hungrier that I had thought, and quickly ate another piece, and then another.

"Mmmmfff. So. good." I moaned with closed eyes in between bites.

"Mmmyeh." I heard the joker mumble back happily.

I opened my eyes to see that the joker had already eaten one whole pizza, and was eyeballing the remaining three slices of mine. With a smile, I pushed the box towards him. I watched with wide eyes as he inhaled them, and then fell back onto the couch with a soft groan of contentment. I suddenly felt concern well up within me, and wondered how often he actually ate. He didn't look too skinny, but he certainly didn't look well-fed either. I wondered about this and watched as his breathing grew deep and even. His mouth twitched intermittently as he slept, and his shoulders jumped occasionally as if he were having a bad dream. Fascinated by this, I curled up in the floor and watched him before my eyes grew heavy and I too fell into a deep sleep.

I woke as a violent set of shivers tore through me and I curled up into the fetal position while my mind re-processed the events of the day before. Bleary-eyed, I sat up and looked around the now empty room. Where was the Joker? Stiffly I rose to my feet, and wobbled slightly as I stretched out my arms over my head and yawned.

I milled aimlessly around the room for a bit, doing a bit of light cleaning as I went. I wasn't sure if the joker assumed I would leave, or how he would react if I were still here when he returned. After the room was moderately clean, I decided to exit and try to find one of his men to see if he'd left a message with them regarding me. It didn't take me long to find a clown-masked man, and when I did it seemed almost as if he'd been waiting for me. I approached him as he leaned against the railing of the catwalk and softly cleared my throat. His head snapped around, and he stood straight and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Boss said you're supposed to take this-" He said gruffly, shoving a handful of money at me from out of his pocket. "And meet him at the mall. Told me to drive ya." He seemed resentful that I'd been given money, and grumpily grabbed my arm and began to drag me down the stairs and to a beat-up car outside.

My mind was buzzing as we drove away from the mill. Why had the joker even left me money? I felt like a child who had just been given an allowance. I quickly counted the money, and felt my face pale. There was A LOT of money here. This wasn't the kind of money that you just GAVE someone, even if you were the clown prince of crime. I could understand the henchman's anger now. I wondered how much the joker payed his men, if at all. It must have been hard for the henchman to just hand this much money over, especially after considering that he must have been in a financial bind to have turned to crime in the first place.

We arrived at the Gotham City mall about fifteen minutes later, and I was glad to get out and away from the angry silence of the car. Before I could ask where I was supposed to meet the joker, the car was peeling away. Slightly peeved at the henchman's attitude, I turned and entered the large, three story mall and waited patiently by the entrance. I didn't know when the Joker would show up, or what his intentions would be when he did. I felt my stomach begin to churn, and wondered if maybe this was some sort of test. Maybe he _expected_ me to run off with the money. To be honest, I thought about doing just that. But then again, where would I go? The joker had blown up my apartment building. Though I now had enough money hidden in my pocket to afford a luxury penthouse, the idea didn't appeal to me for some reason. I sighed and leaned against the wall, watching the people as they rushed around, busy with their lives. A little girl waddled by me with her mother and pinched her nose. I was suddenly all too aware of my stench. I hadn't showered, and was wearing dirty clothes. My eyes also felt dry, and I realized that I needed to take out my contacts. I chewed my bottom lip as the list of things I needed to do grew longer and longer. I had managed to grab my purse during the hectic evacuation from my apartment, so I had some money, but it wouldn't get me very far. Maybe I could manage to go back in to work. I suddenly giggled, startling myself. The idea of carpooling to work with the Joker and his goons had been just enough to disperse gloominess of the situation.

"Hey _there_ , uh, _sleeping_ beauty." Came a familiar voice from behind me.

I jumped, and snapped my head around to glare at the joker. I took a minute to process what I was seeing before turning to face him. He had washed his makeup away, and he was surprisingly attractive; even with the pronounced scars. He wore a deep green button up shirt with long sleeves, well-fitting dark wash jeans, and dark brown sneakers. It also looked like he'd washed his hair. I was unsettled slightly by his appearance, and how normal this homicidal maniac could look when he put his mind to it. But for some reason, this seemed to be more of a costume than the purple suit and clown makeup. It didn't suit him at all.

"You clean up pretty nice." I said in a monotone. "Why am I here?"

He frowned at me and his brows furrowed, and he seemed disappointed in my reaction. He stuck his hands in his pockets and leaned against the wall with me, looking like the picture of a carefree guy at the mall with a girl. A small part of my mind rejoiced at the novelty of this image, and my inclusion in it. I'd never gone _anywhere_ with a guy before. But of course, the schoolgirl-like giddiness that this situation brought on was tempered by the fact that this was _the Joker;_ and he was just as likely to pull out a submachine gun and start shooting as he was to romantically split a milkshake with me or hold my hand. Not that I wanted _him_ to hold my hand or split a milkshake with me, I just liked the idea of doing those things with _someone_. Though, for moment I shamefully considered how bad doing those things with _him_ would really be. I shrugged this off and chalked it all up to straightforward sexual repression and a lack of available guys to begin with. Yes, that was it.

" _Well_ , you _see_ , uh, _Celeste_ ," He began, running a hand through his hair. "This _morning_ , I wasn't _sure_ what to, uh, _do_ with you. I _blew_ up your _place_ and, uh, _somehow_ you ended up _coming_ with _me_. This was, uh, _Not_ - _ **tuh**_ supposed to _happen_. I _was_ just going to, uh, _pop_ in to your _place_ , uh, and say _'hi'_ , then _leave_."

His brows furrowed even more as he spoke, and he seemed to be struggling with something as he moved his hands around expressively. I raised an eyebrow at him, and his eyes darted around as he thought of what to say next.

" _So_ , uh, I thought _'why not?'_ and, uh, _decided_ to let you, uh, _**stay**_ , Uh, for a _while_ anyway. _Nothing_ , uh, _permanent_." He looked up at me with a broad smile, as if he were so proud of himself that he couldn't contain it.

I stifled a giggle at such a childlike expression coming from him, and straightened myself. I supposed it was a good thing that he hadn't decided to kill me in my sleep, or left me to die in the explosion of the apartment. I was oddly indifferent where my own life was concerned, and noted this with mild concern as I crossed my arms over my chest.

"That's great." I said sarcastically. "But why are we at the mall?"

"Ya _know_ , uh, most _people_ would be a _bit_ , uh, _shaken_ that their lives _depended_ on the, uh, _whims_ of _someone_ like, uh, _**me**_." He said, narrowing his eyes at me.

"Yeah." I agreed with a curt nod. "Now answer my question."

"We are _here_ , uh, because I _decided_ that since you're, uh, going to be _hanging around_ , that you, uh, _need_ to _look_ the _part_." He said with a sigh of defeat. "We're, uh, going to _get_ you a, uh, _new look_."

"Extreme Makeover: Joker Style." I joked, smiling at him. "But, uh, what 'part' do I need to look? Am I going to get my own clown mask, or…?" I raised both my eyebrows at the look of indignation he shot me.

"No, no, _no_ , _**NO**_. Look," he began, hunching over slightly. "The _masks_ are for the, uh, _faceless_ _**expendables**_. _Not_ , uh, for _**you**_."

My body went rigid as if he'd slapped me. Now _this_ was a surprise. Hadn't he just finished telling me that until this morning he might have killed me? I had been under the impression that I was expendable…

"So, I'm not expendable?" I probed, looking deep into his eyes in search of some hidden meaning or trickery. I didn't find it; his dark eyes seemed calmer than usual, and maybe even more sincere.

"Not, uh, _currently_." He beamed up at me, before his body lurched forward and past me.

I spun around and had to jog to keep up with his long-legged stride. Warmth welled up within me; caused by the fact that someone wanted me around. Despite knowing that it was only short-term, a smile spread across my face as I caught up with the Joker and linked my arm through his. His body stiffened, as if he was unsure of how to react, then he relaxed as we stepped onto the escalator.

"So, I guess this means we're friends." I chirped happily once we reached the top and stepped off.

" _ **Friends?!**_ " he gasped, dragging me to the side of the busy corridor and clamping his hands on my shoulders as he studied my face. His jaw ticked slightly and his tongue darted over his lips as confusion once again settled in his expression.

"Mmhmm." I smiled up at him, ignoring the spike of fear I felt at his sudden change of body language. "It's nice. I've never had a friend before."

He grumbled something inaudible and forced his arm back through mine, and began to drag me forward. I stifled a laugh. What an odd situation I'd found myself in.

A few hours later, I stumbled back into the mill and up the stairs with two armloads of bags from the mall. Despite my protests, the joker had ended up going a bit overboard and I'd ended up with more clothes than I knew what to do with. He seemed to have a secret passion for dressing people up like dolls, though when I'd mentioned my opinion on that he'd gown eerily quiet and glared at me with murderous intent. I noted that maybe it wasn't the best topic for discussion. Initially, I was just supposed to get a new outfit to wear whenever I went anywhere with the Joker at an 'Official' capacity, though to be honest I still didn't really know what he meant by that; and he didn't offer any elaboration. Did he have a mind to make me join in on his psychotic crime sprees? I let out a long sigh at the thought of it. There really was no telling with him.

I tossed the bags down on the floor by the bed, and went into the bathroom. When I emerged, the Joker was busy laying all my clothes out on the bed. He looked as if he was planning my outfits, and the look of manic giddiness in his eyes worried me. I had issues with several of the tops and skirts that he'd forced me to get, since they were too revealing for my liking. Of course, anything with short sleeves or a hem above the ankle bothered me, as it meant my scars would be visible. I didn't even want to think about some of the… _underwear…_ he'd thrown in. Though to his credit, he seemed rightfully embarrassed when had done so; which was laughable. I stood in the doorway and watched him for a bit, and when he finally finished he stood back and regarded his work. I crept up to stand beside him, and looked over the outfits. They were…surprisingly nice. He'd done a good job. Most of the tops I'd been worried about had been paired with coats or cardigans, and the skirts and shorts were matched with tights or high socks. I tilted my head when I realized that the color schemes were exactly like his; Deep purple, Green, Black, and Grey.

"Put, uh, _this_ one _**on**_." He commanded, holding up an outfit that hung from a hanger. Though his voice sounded whimsical, his eyes shot daggers of dead-seriousness at me.

I took the hanger and retreated to the bathroom once more. It was a cute grey dress with a high collar and long sleeves that hemmed at mid-thigh, with one green stocking and one purple draped over it on the hanger. As I removed the dress to put it on, a lacey black bra and panty set tumbled out and onto the tile floor. I instantly felt my face flush and quickly picked the items up. My current mix-matched underwear were threadbare and tattered, and to be honest the idea of wearing a matching set appealed to me, especially one so fine and expensive. I quickly shucked off my clothes and put on the new ones, taking a moment to savor the feeling of freedom that came with being totally nude in the process. The grey dress fit me like a glove, yet was not 'too' tight and the stockings came up almost all the way to the hem line, leaving only a small sliver of my skin exposed. All in all, I felt like a million bucks. Which, I realized made sense given the cost of the clothes I was now wearing.

I regarded myself in the mirror for a moment, took the ponytail holder out of my hair and re-did my loose bun, inhaled deeply, then opened the bathroom door.

The joker was sitting on the couch, examining the room as if he'd just now realized it was cleaner than he left it. He turned his head to look at me when the door opened, and as his gaze assaulted me I felt the urge to run to the bed and hide beneath the covers. I'd never been inspected with this much intensity before, and didn't like it. I wasn't sure how I expected him to react; but as he began to slowly clap and smile at me warmth spread throughout me and I smiled back. I felt like a teen from a movie that'd just dramatically descended the stairs on prom night. He held up his hand and indicated that I should turn around, so I gave a small twirl with a giggle.

"Now, uh, _YOU_ clean up nice." He smiled broadly. " _Maybe_ I, uh, _can_ be seen in _public_ with you, uh, _after_ _all_."

"Public?" I asked, placing a hand on my hip.

" **Oh**! _Yeah_ , uh, _c'mere_." He said, standing and walking over to the chest at the foot of the bed. He kicked it open, and a small gasp came from my lips as I saw that it was full of a dizzying array of knives and guns " _Pick one_."

I looked up at him with confusion, and as he leered down at me it hit me; I was going to be his partner in crime. I looked down, and picked a Semi-Automatic Pistol off the top of the pile. Then paused, and grabbed a small spring-assisted knife as well. I looked back up at the joker, who looked manically pleased.

"That's, Uh, _good_." He praised, before slipping into a laughing fit. " _Now_ , let's, uh, go have a _niiiight_ on the _town_. Like, uh, _ **friends**_." He added, his expression defiant; as if he were challenging me.

I straightened my spine, and leveled my eyes with his.

"Okay." I stated plainly. "What did you have in mind?"

I let out a long sigh as I stretched out on the couch and tried my best not to succumb to the anger I felt boiling just under my skin. I had been sitting in the mill fighting the urge to throw the damn T.V. through the window ever since I woke up after being knocked out by the joker. I had no idea why he had done it, and was frustrated at my own naivety; I thought I'd had him figured out. But in his insanity-addled brain, I must have overstepped somehow. I gritted my teeth as my fingers massaged the throbbing in my blood-crusted nose. It was broken, though when I had inspected it in the bathroom mirror it didn't seem crooked, which I was grateful for since I'd always liked the shape of my nose.

As my eyes absent-mindedly wandered around the room I noticed that the trunk which held all the weapons now had a large padlock on it and I stifled a giggle. So he was aware that I would be angry. Good. I also noticed that the Knife I had picked out earlier was sitting on the floor next to where I had been standing, though the gun was gone. Why hadn't he taken the knife too? Maybe he thought that after sucker-punching me I deserved an attempt at revenge. I rolled off the couch and crawled to the knife on all fours, my head spinning at the movement. I picked up the knife and pressed the switch, giggling softly as the blade popped into position. I regarded it for a moment, considering my options. I was mad, of course, that he'd hit me; But I didn't think trying to hurt him back would have good results. Regardless, the idea did have its appeal.

I heard footsteps coming from the stairs and shot to my feet, subconsciously gritting my teeth and squeezing the handle of the knife. I listened to the slow, casual footsteps as they drew near, and concluded that it was the joker. My body tensed, and as the door swung open my hand shot forward and sent the knife flying; the tip planting itself deep into the wooden door frame about a hairs width away from the jokers startled face.

"That HURT." I hissed, my left hand resting on the swollen bridge of my nose as I glared that the joker; still standing frozen in the doorway. I noticed that he had an armload of plastic bags, and despite my best efforts my stomach let out a fierce growl as the scent of hot Chinese food filled the still air.

We stood in angry silence for a moment, staring at each other as his expression transformed rapidly into one of bemusement and my stomach continued to scream out its desire. He lackadaisically plucked the knife from the doorframe, letting out a small grunt of effort, before sauntering over to the table and sorting the containers of food out onto its surface. I put my hands on my hips, and maintained my position as he sat and began to slurp down noodles. I watched him devour the food with primal animosity as the minutes ticked by and my anger grew.

"I'm going out." I growled, stomping to the door and grabbing a coat from the hook.

" _Excuuuse_ me?" The joker hissed; his body shooting upright as he spat venom at me with his eyes.

"Out. O-U-T. I'm going _Out_." I gritted out. "If you don't like it, kill me." And with that, I ejected myself from the room, slamming the door behind me. I heard a loud, muffled roar of anger emitting from behind me as I darted down the stairs, but heard nothing to indicate that he was following me. I powered myself past a few disgruntled-looking goons, and out of the mill with an anger the likes of which I had never felt. Why was it that he made me this mad? I couldn't understand it, and certainly didn't like it. It was almost like I expected a certain type of behavior from him, but I knew without a doubt that he would never act the way I wanted him to. Maybe I was just mad at myself for my unrealistic expectations of him. What exactly was it that I expected of him, anyway? I still hadn't figured that out myself. Did I want him to be kind to me? Why should he be kind to me? What sort of naïve wishful thinking was my mind concocting? At any rate, my mind certainly didn't have my permission to think what it did.

I stomped around the industrial district of Arkham city for maybe forty-five minutes before I ran out of steam and found myself slumped on a wooden crate in defeat. I gazed up at the overcast sky. The clouds seemed to be muddied from the city's pollution, just like the people who lived there. What exactly was I doing? I had no idea why I seemed to cling to the joker, or why I didn't just leave and try to put my life back together. I didn't feel particularly drawn to him; I didn't particularly like him either. I honestly had no idea why I was still here. I could just as easily go back to work, and get another apartment. Go back to the same routine, the same apathy. For some reason that held very little allure. Perhaps it was because I had had a taste of social interaction and spontaneity that made me crave it even more. For the first time in a long while, I felt as if I had found a place where I fit; as ridiculous as it seemed.

"-Miss?" I jumped as I realized that there was a young man standing in front of me who seemed to be talking at me.

"I'm sorry, What?" I asked, squinting up at him.

He was dressed in an eclectic suit, the colors ranging from faded royal blue to deep burgundy. His black hair looked purposely disheveled in that edgy-teen way, which looked a bit silly on him as he appeared to be in his late twenties or early thirties. He had very pale blue eyes, and a long, very pronounced nose that looked more like a bird's beak. I also noted the odd way he stood, with his feet facing outward slightly.

"Oh, I was just asking if you were alright. A kind-looking young woman such as you; in this unsavory part of the world, would be cause enough for any Good Samaritan to worry." He chuckled awkwardly. "I also couldn't help but notice that you seem to be a bit upset."

"Oh, Uhm, I'm okay." I said, dusting off my legs as I stood. I noticed that past the man, sat an idle car; Black with tinted windows; and expensive-looking. I instantly got a bad feeling and the impression that this man was somehow connected to the mafia in Gotham. "Thank you for the concern, though." I added with a nervous smile. The last thing I needed now was to get on the bad side of the mafia for petty rudeness. I already had one psycho to deal with, I didn't need more.

"Well that's certainly good to hear. I hope it's not too much of a bother, but perhaps you could help me? You see, I'm looking for a clown. I've heard that he holes up around here, and I was wondering if maybe you'd seen him." The man said cheerily. Worry reared its head within my chest and I started to chew my bottom lip.

I doubted the Joker was expecting him, and with the sour mood I'd left him in I didn't think he'd take too well to surprise visitors. Not only that, but I was suspicious of this man's intentions. I knew that The Joker had been stealing from the Mob for quite some time, and I got the feeling that this man had been sent to resolve the situation. My eyes darted fearfully back to the car and I speculated at who might be sitting inside as I considered my options.

"You must be wondering what this visit could possibly be about." Stated the man, and I cursed myself for letting my emotions be so detectable. "Well miss, sitting in that car is an associate of both myself and my dear friend Don Falcone. Perhaps you've heard of him? His name is Victor Zsasz. You see, this 'Joker' fellow has been taking things that do not belong to him, _stealing_ from my dear friend. So, we've simply come to have a polite talk about it."

My mind started whirring, and I frantically looked for escape routes and weapons with my peripheral vision as I smiled up kindly at the man.

"I've heard about that." I said; my smile so wide it hurt. "But I'm afraid I can't help you."

"You can't?" He asked, leaning in slightly with a subtle frown. "Well, see, I think you can."

My brows furrowed as I blinked up at him.

"You're wearing his Coat." He said with a small smirk.

Suddenly I giggled as I realized that he was Right. I _was_ wearing his coat. _The Joker's coat._


End file.
